


2019 Qrowin Week

by drunkdragon



Category: RWBY
Genre: Collection of fics, F/M, Qrowin Week, Qrowin Week 2019, additional warnings as needed per chapter, variety of stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-01-22 19:23:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21307322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkdragon/pseuds/drunkdragon
Summary: My works for 2019 Qrowin Weeks. Will also contain the Winter set as well once I get around to it. Please see individual chapters for prompts and additional tags/warnings. Most are/will be about a page long, so one-shot length.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Winter Schnee
Kudos: 33





	1. First

"Ke-llan… gi?"

Winter was trying to learn Mistralian. He told her that she didn't have to, but she wanted to try and learn some of his language. She hated not being bilingual like he was, and she was nothing if not competitive - even after they were married.

Still, it was something that Qrow appreciated. Atlesian was the main language on Remnant, so her picking up his language was absolutely unnecessary.

"Close. It’s ke-llan _ gui _."

Her brow furrowed as she stared at the menu hanging from the back of the food stall."But… that literally translates to 'skewered river chicken'.”

Turning his head to the menu, he saw that it was interestingly priced as a midrange item. Salt and peppered, roasted over coals. _ He _ knew what it was, but Winter didn’t, so-

He pulled out some lien and put it on the table. “_ Ke-llan gui. Yios, panan _.”

* * *

To say he was at least a little invested in the moment was a bit of an understatement.

His smile was wide, and it was probably sheepish. Still, this would be a fun occasion. His enthusiasm, however, was backfiring a bit. Winter had yet to take a bite and she was shooting him a dirty stare. Finally relenting, he took a bite from his own skewer, pulling off the top piece of meat.

A hint of salty, mostly peppery. A tiny bit stringy, kind of chewy, and juicy enough. But in the end it was familiar and welcoming.

When he swallowed and turned back to Winter, she was still frowning at him. But she took a breath and finally turned back to her food. “I promise I’ll eat it. But I want to at least know what it is first.”

He moved onto the next piece. “It’s frog legs.”

Her countenance was still a bit downward, but at least she was still staring at her food. She blinked, took a breath, and put a piece in her mouth. She chewed slowly, mulling the piece over in her mouth before swallowing.

“Hmph. River chicken, indeed.”


	2. Moonlight(ing)

He didn’t really _ need _ another job. Ozpin’s payroll (when the old man was still around to keep him on it) was enough to cover everything and then some, so it’s not like he was ever in want of anything. And hell, Qrow might even argue that with all the work and travel he does off the radar, he didn’t have time to spend all his money anyway. So it was all saved up in a bank account somewhere, gathering value and dust.

But here he was at the checkout stand at a local convenience store, doing the late shift, scanning drinks and cigarettes for the nightowls and dissuading cantankerous youths from stealing candy. It was a part-time gig, really. Something to pass the time in between hunter jobs when he wasn’t training. Kept him out of trouble, as the saying goes.

Seeing Winter Schnee walk through the doors at three in the morning, however, was unexpected. He didn’t realize that he called out her name until she was staring at him.

“Oh,” she froze when he called her out, like a deer in the lights, and she gulped. “It’s you.”

They stared at each other, as if they were intruding on each other’s private space. But with their extensive history together, what was and wasn’t private was slowly becoming more and more of a muddled line. It started late one night at a bar, then it happened again when they were on a mission. And since then it was just that - muddled and confusing. In one moment they were business as usual, and in another it was like nothing else mattered but each other - bed and sex not required.

Winter eventually moved on, stepping through the aisles. He tried not to watch her, but with no one else in the store, there was nothing else left to do.

On two occasions Qrow was sure that she was going to walk out of the place. But at every turn she came back. And finally, with a heavy breath, she approached the counter. “I’ll stop being coy. I knew you worked here and I came specifically to find you.” She put some lien on the counter. “I need a pregnancy test.”

He felt his head lean forward. “_ What? _” Was she seeing someone? Why did he not notice this? Was he interfering?

And why was he afraid? And angry?

He gulped, suddenly aware of his breathing. “I...I didn’t know you were with another person.”

No, it wasn’t fear, nor anger. It was insecurity.

“I’m not,” with her tone of voice, she might have stamped her foot, “and I am appalled by your stupidity. I haven’t been with anyone else.”

“So…” his brow furrowed, “why do you need this test anyway?”

But it was a dumb question. Three weeks ago when they were still out in the forests of Mistral, under a gorgeous full moon, they stepped over the blurry line again. They thought they were careful, and yet-

The realization hit him just as she leaned over the counter, sharp blue eyes pointed right into his.

“What I’m trying to say, _ Qrow _,” she said through her teeth, “is that you might be a father.”


	3. Luck

_"How exactly do you roll three ones in a row?” _

_ “Don’t blame me, YOU were the one who first-” _

\---

“It could be worse.”

It was probably something Qrow didn’t want to hear, but on some level it was true. In the world they lived in, it really could have been worse. Didn’t make the situation any better though.

“I don’t think-,” he coughed, and a bit of blood came out of his mouth, staining his cherished violin, “I don’t think I’m gonna-”

She knelt down, pulling out a single flask. An hour ago it was full of life-saving liquid, but now it was down to its last dregs. Winter wasn’t sure if there was enough to save him from the arrow wound. “You said that the last time, too.” With shaky fingers, she unscrewed the cap and tilted his head back. “Try and drink. Please.”

He tried to push it away, but in the end his hand could only weakly cling to her. “Save it,” he looked back down at his chest. “It’s… It’s not gonna fix this.”

Any other time, she would have ignored him. But this time the facts hit her hard. What was left of the potion might close up the wound, but it wouldn’t replace the lost blood. “C-Come on now, you’ll be fine.” She took his red cape and held it against his wound. “Can’t even tell your bleeding.” 

“Heh,” another bloody cough, “I always said that, didn’t I?” His hand drifted upward, letting go of his violin before gently reaching for her cheek. “Can you lean in? Gotta,” he gulped, “I gotta do one last thing.”

She figured she would humor him, and let the magic behind his words flow one last time.

\---

_ “Okay, so seeing you two kiss like _ ** _that_ ** _ IRL is kinda weird because we all thought you hated each other. For being in-character, though, I suppose I’m willing to let that count as a life-saving throw. Buuuuut there is also the matter of the giant ogre that you’ve kinda been ignoring so I have to factor that in as well. Go ahead and roll, Winter.” _

_ *Clack* _

_ “Oh, uh… wow. Okay. Um.” _

_ “... I can’t believe this.” _

_ “The giant ogre that your party forgot about somehow stealths its way up and bops Winter on the head, killing her instantly. And Qrow dies of blood loss.” _

_ “That’s four ones in a row, Winter.” _

_ “Shut up.” _


	4. Whisper

Winter left the Schnee Manor as soon as she could enter an academy at seventeen. She graduated a year quicker than others and entered the military at twenty. She killed her first person in combat at twenty one, and from there she felt that she was as removed as she could from her family. Aside from spending time with Weiss and maybe some interaction with Whitley, she was never home, not even for the holidays.

It wasn’t without reason, though. She saw the lifestyle she would have led if she stayed behind, caged and under her father’s thumb. She may have been given the opportunity to have a silver spoon in her mouth, and she said no.

And so when she heard the words from Weiss’ own lips, she hated herself.

_ “When I was younger, I often wished you were around for just a little longer, and I’m so glad we have that time now.” _

Weiss certainly didn’t say it with a malignant tone. In fact, she was happy - she got her wish after all. But as much as Winter tried to lie to herself, the words cut deep. It was a reminder of her choice - that selfishness hurt others.

The rest of their meeting went fine to the blind eye. Winter was good enough at hiding, and if Weiss knew anything she was able to hide it as well. It was only until she got home did she let it hit her and she slumped into the couch.

When Qrow found her maybe ten minutes later, she hadn’t moved much. Just a fargone look in her eyes, staring into the corner. He didn’t do anything at first, but as it became more and more apparent that something was amiss, he slid next to her and placed an arm around her

Nothing was exchanged, but she let her head lean against his shoulder. And finally she bit the bullet.

“Am I selfish, Qrow?” she whispered.

He took a deep breath and let his arm hold onto her just a little tighter. “For what?”

“For leaving them.”

He remained silent at first, knowing that such words triggered his own thoughts and memories. “You never truly left them, you know.”

She didn’t fully buy it, but she tried to let the thought soothe her.


	5. Blanket

Winter wouldn’t call themselves trapped or lost. They were on their way back from a joint mission by Ozpin and Ironwood and were simply taking a little longer than expected to return. They’d make it to the return point easy enough, but it was still a half day’s walk away.

She told him that he could fly back, but he was as stubborn as her. He said it was dangerous to be alone out in the wild, and she hated how true it was. She was a soldier, she earned her right to operate alone, and yet this man refused to let it be. It was insulting.

And yet when she finally demanded that she be left alone, that she wasn’t a child, that she had proven herself capable of being an individual agent, Qrow grew silent for a moment. His shoulders rose and fell, heavy with breath and fallen snowflakes. Fingers grew slack, and she watched as a war waged within him.

In the end, he reiterated his position. “It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it. You could probably put me to shame if you really set your heart on it. But this is not negotiable.” His eyes turned to the side, not to look at her but at a distant point, constantly scanning the horizon and searching for something. “There are things out here. Things that I regret, and I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Winter thought it was a ton of bullshit, but at the very least it wasn’t him trying to baby her entirely.

He finally turned back to their path, and then to the sky. “The snow doesn’t look too heavy, but we might as well settle in for the night.”

And so they started to set up camp. They set up beneath a tree, brushing aside the snow on the ground to create a dry enough space for a fire. Then all that was left was to heat up something to eat and rest.

As the evening settled in, though, the chill of the wind came with it. Winter found herself staring into the fire, gently feeding it as the two of them prepared to wind down. Qrow got up to take first watch, and she ignored him when he went past her. Ignored him when he paused, and did something with his shoulders or something behind her back.

She couldn’t ignore the warm feeling that swathed across her back, though. And when she looked down, it was his red cloak that was laid over her like a blanket. But when Winter looked up, he was already gone, just a black feather and a ringing caw in her ears.

She supposed that, if there was anything to be grateful about him this evening, it was that.


	6. Scars

“Things happen, Miss. It gets the best of us.”

That only made her angrier. “I’m not going to hide behind excuses, Mr. Branwen.”

He rolled his eyes. It wasn’t even that deep, nor was it anywhere near something critical. Just a bit of a gouge on his bicep, nothing more. But here she was, swabbing away at the wound with cotton and rubbing alcohol. “Does it bother you that much?”

She put the equipment away and started to apply some bandages. “Of course it does. It reflects poorly on me if someone I’m in charge of gets hurt.”

He felt his brow rise. “You’re not in charge of me, though.”

“Not explicitly,” she grimaced. “But you’re in Atlas territory. In the situation of a Grimm attack, I’m responsible for those near me, even if you  _ are _ a veteran hunter.”

He laughed, “It wasn’t even your fault, though.”

“Maybe, but I’m in charge so  _ quit moving and let me finish. _ ”

\---

That was almost eight years ago. Since then, a lot of things changed. Ozpin and Jimmy started scheming together, the world nearly ended, and everyone grew up a bit. And while they weren’t married on paper, the two of them were given enough breadth to do what they wanted. Maybe it was an unspoken relationship, but Qrow figured that Winter wouldn’t have stayed with him if she didn’t want to.

He felt her finger tracing a spot on his arm, and he looked over. Her eyes glanced into his momentarily, but for the most part she remained focused on the area.

“Still sad that I got hurt that day?”

One last blink, and then she leaned in to place her lips over the age-old wound. “Not anymore, no. It’s how I met you, after all.”


	7. Color

The way Winter looked at the glass in front of her was like a child lost in a sea of possibilities. As her view glazed from one end to the other, Qrow watched as she fawned over the gathering of flavors and colors. Vanilla. Mint Chocolate Chip. Rocky Road. Sherbert. There must have been more than twenty different choices available, and she was getting lost in them all.

“Come on, Winter. You’ve had ice cream before, right?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, taking on the visage that he was so used to. “It’s not that I haven’t had ice cream before, Qrow. It’s just that…” she furrowed her brow, trying to put her lips to the words in her mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever been allowed to choose what I wanted.”

This was new. “What do you mean?”

She pursed her lips. “Whenever it was served, it was part of a course. Either chocolate or vanilla or strawberry. Never-” she waved her hand across the glass. “Never all this.”

“Well,” he gently put his hand on her shoulder, “today you get to pick. If there’s a flavor you want, you get to put your name on it. If there’s two you want, then grab two. Or three.”

She set her gaze back on the selections in front of her. But as soon as Qrow thought that she finally settled on a flavor, her eyes moved onto another. Each name was just another set of words when compared to the next choice. Perhaps that was the problem - she had little to no context to compare each flavor to. Or perhaps she just didn’t know what to expect - ‘Victory’ wasn’t really a flavor so much as it was a thought or concept, after all.

But she finally had a decision ready. He knew in how she straightened her back, how she mashed her lips together before speaking. What was new, though, was the way her hand traced up to her ear, as if looking for something. It finally settled upon the curls of her hair, and she began to play with it.

Nervousness. But a different kind. Qrow had seen her under various states of nervousness. Nervous under pressure, nervous under uncertainty. Even fear, as brief as those moments were. But this one was a little something else, and so he remained silent until she finally spoke.

“Is… Is it too much to ask for all of them?”

For a moment, he must have been surprised, for Winter’s look of hopefulness faltered. But he gently reached into his pocket and took out his lien cards. His face lit up with a smile, and he turned to the cashier.

“A half-scoop of each, please, and try to make it look nice if you can. It’s my dear’s birthday.”


End file.
